More To Fix Than Cars
by castielsgrace
Summary: Dean didn't want to hire outside of the family, but when Castiel shows up, desperate and without any other options, he can't seem to say no. Prompt fill.


**Title:** More To Fix Than Cars (1/?)  
**Rating: **PG-13 (for now)  
**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
**Warnings:** Language  
**Word Count:** 4,728  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural, of course. I also do not own Castiel, sadly.  
**Summary:** Dean didn't want to hire outside of the family, but when Castiel shows up, desperate and without any other options, he can't seem to say no. Prompt fill.  
**Prompt: **Autoshop AU Prompt! Thanks! I guess they all work there or something since Cas' name's on it. Maybe he could be the new guy? And Dean has to see him all greasy and sweaty and sliding in and out until the car vehicle or something and he makes him do it again and again just to "double" check that fucker rly knows what he's doing.

* * *

**Part One**

"Hey, Dean?" Sam's voice was coming from the office, his tone obviously implying that this was yet another problem that he was going to make Dean deal with. Damn kid didn't do well with confrontation, which made no sense since he was supposed to work with all their customers and that requires telling people where they can shove their complaints sometimes. Regardless, he pushes himself out from under the van he was working on—thing was a pain in the ass, and let it be said that Dean i_really/i_ hates soccer moms sometimes—before making his way to their front office. Through the glass windows he can see Sam sitting at his desk, laptop open in front of him and some brunette guy sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of it.

He considers cleaning off the grease that he i_knows/i_ is on his face, but ends up simply wiping his hands on one of the various rags he's always leaving around. "What, Sammy?"

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting as he walked into the office, but it certainly wasn't the (really fucking) blue eyes of the brunette would whip around to him, effectively pinning him to the spot. "Um, this is Castiel," The name is weird, but Dean still can't quite think properly because, yeah, the guy is still staring and, yeah, it's a bit weird, "He said he's desperate for a job and, uh, well I thought you should talk to him.."

"Sam," Dean says as calmly as he can, trying to restrain from strangling him, not quite understanding why he was being called in when they've talked about this i_a lot/i._ "You know the rule."

"Yeah, but Dean—"

"Sam."

"You're always complaining about the amount of work you have to do, Dean! What would be the big deal about hiring someone to help you out?"

Dean sighs, "Maybe if you'd just let me teach you how to fix a goddam car…"

"You know I'm not good at stuff like that." And yeah, maybe Sam was right. The last time Dean tried to teach him something he'd had to work for weeks on fixing his poor baby's engine. But, dammit, it was a _family_ business! They didn't hire randoms for a reason and Dean wasn't about to start making exceptions now, even if this one had the nicest eyes he'd ever seen.

"No, Sam."

"What would the harm be in you interviewing him?" Sam pressed.

"I said no."

Sam stood up then and angrily stormed over, grabbing Dean's elbow and dragging him out of the office as he yelled an apology to Castiel. "Dean," He hissed once they were a safe distance away, "He's _desperate_."

"So? He can go to one of the other fifty auto shops 'round here."

"We're the only shop within walking distance from his apartment, he said. Though if we don't give him a job he likely won't even _have_ an apartment in a couple weeks, from the sound of it."

Dean sighed again, "Sam…"

"_Please_. Look at him. We can't just send the poor guy out on the streets. You need the help, he needs the money. I don't understand the big problem here."

"You know our shop is called _Winchester Inc._, right?"

"Yeah, and? May I remind you that you are the only person to think it's necessary for all employee's to be Winchesters?"

"I don't want some kid messing around in my shop." Dean knew that he was spouting bullshit at this point, but the longer Sam talked the more he felt like he was just being a dick about it all. Which wasn't fair, because Dean wasn't doing anything wrong. He didn't know Castiel; it wasn't his responsibility to keep the guy off the street. Plus, if he makes one exception he'd have to start making exceptions for even more of the strays that Sam keeps finding, which is definitely not something he wants to deal with.

"He's not exactly a kid. He's your age."

So he might not have been expecting that. He didn't look like he was in his late 20's. Hell, he didn't even look like he was fully out of high school yet. Dean was running out of excuses fast. "Has he ever even fixed a car?"

"Um, probably?" Sam looked sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck and shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I mean, who would apply to work at an auto shop if they couldn't fix a car, right?

"Do you know anything about this guy aside from his name and the fact that he is, apparently, desperate?"

"… Not really."

Dean groaned, "I honestly don't know what I pay you for."

"You _don't_ pay me, Dean." Sam reminded as they walked into the office, "Aside from my 'allowance'—which I am _way _too old for, by the way."

"Good, then I don't have to give it to you anymore," Dean shrugged, but before Sam could protest he directed his attention towards the brunette. "So, Castiel. You want a job here?"

"I would very much appreciate your consideration, yes." His tone was formal and confident, but Dean could tell the guy was nervous. He definitely did _not_ feel a pang of guilt at that. "I understand that this is a family business, and I really don't wish to intrude, but I have found myself out of other options."

Dean sighed and Sam's face broke out into one of the biggest shit-eating grins he'd seen. He knew he'd won. "Do you have any recommendations?"

Castiel's confident façade visibly faltered. His face stayed stoic, but his eyes were suddenly on the floor and Dean knew that never meant anything good. "I'm afraid not. Fixing cars wasn't my previous career choice. I only did it as a hobby."

"So why aren't you looking for a job that you're actually qualified for?"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, horrified. "God you can be such a jerk!"

"It's rather alright, Sam. In fact, it's a perfectly reasonable question," He gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes; "I will never be able to return to my previous career choice, I am afraid."

"Why?" Dean knew he was being blunt—a heck of a lot more so than he was usually comfortable with—and Sam looked absolutely horrified still, but there was no way in hell he would hire someone without any references without some history. For all he knew this Castiel could be a serial killer.

"I previously worked for my father, who owns a law firm. Although I mostly worked under my uncle Zachariah, and we had a…" Castiel paused, his head tilting to the side in a way that was most certainly _not_ adorable, "Well, I guess it was a difference in opinions resulting in my immediate termination and therefore impending eviction. My father is a highly influential man, as far as the law goes, and after the aforementioned disagreement, he has most certainly made it clear that I am not to be hired."

A lawyer. That explained his formal language. "What was the disagreement?" Dean asked, and Sam had to leave the office in his apparent disgust. Dean rolled his eyes, kid was a wimp.

"It was a religious disagreement." Castiel's tone was suddenly flat and Dean knew that he hit some wrong nerve, pried too far in or whatever. So yeah, he was starting to feel a bit bad. "My extremely Christian family—with the exception of two—disagrees with the fact that I have 'chosen'," He lifted his hands, putting air quotes around the word, "to live as a homosexual. I understand if this is also a problem with you."

He had completely shut himself off at this point, and now Dean really felt like a dick. "No way, man. That's definitely not a problem here."

"I see."

Dean didn't let himself think too much before finally saying, "Why don't we go see what you can do?"

* * *

Castiel, as it turns out, is awesome with cars. As soon as he's bending over an engine it's like he's entered his element and all the nerdy awkwardness surrounding him is replaced by strong confidence. His long fingers flit across the engine with practiced ease, catching the problems and correcting them swiftly. Dean kinda hates it 'cause he no longer has any reason whatsoever _not_ to hire the guy. When Castiel finally reemerges from beneath the good, his face is smeared with grease and a thin layer of sweat. His hair, which was already a mess, now stood up at weird angles all over the place. Dean couldn't stop himself from thinking what it would look like if someone were to force their hands through it, if someone were to tug at it gently; just how messy would it get?

He shook off the thoughts before they could go any farther. He'd come to terms with the fact that, yeah, he likes dudes too long ago, and he stopped freaking out about it a couple months after the fact, but he wasn't about to start thinking about what, exactly, he could do to a guy that was about to become his first actual coworker, even if he was gay.

"Alright, good." Dean coughed, not meeting Castiel's eye, "I'll go get Sammy and we can talk about your wage and stuff."

Castiel's eyes went impossibly wide and his face broke out into the first genuine smile Dean had seen from his, twinkling eyes and all (Dean didn't even know peoples eyes actually twinkled, what the fuck). Regardless, he decided in that moment that it was something he wanted to see more of. "Thank you so much, Mr. Winchester."

Dean flinched, "Uh, dude. No. That makes me sound old."

"My apologies, um…"

"Just call me Dean, most people do."

"Very well. Thank you for your kindness, Dean."

"Uh, sure," He looked away again, unable to meet the sincere gratefulness in Castiel's eyes, "Stay put, I'll be right back.

Sam was just where Dean thought he would be; still sitting in his usual spot behind his laptop working on the paperwork that never seemed to end. Dean didn't even know where half of it came from, but Sam was up all hours making sure it all got done. As soon as he noticed Dean's presence, Sam was looking at him with a huge, all-knowing grin.

"Oh, shove it," Dean huffed, "I'm not afraid to go take back my offer if you don't keep your mouth shut."

"You're probably like his hero right now, y'know." Sam stated as they walked back to where Castiel was standing, already looking awkward again.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk." Castiel was watching them, obviously confused by the exchange but clearly not planning on voicing any opinions he had. "Congratulations, Castiel. You're the first paid member of staff!"

"I'm pleased to join you." Castiel smiled, but it wasn't like the one Dean had seen, "Thank you again for allowing me this opportunity despite your previous agreement."

"Sure," Dean shrugged, wanting to move past the unease he always felt when people were acting all grateful. "So what kinda hours can you work?"

"Any," Castiel responded quickly. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he looked to the floor, "I'm willing to work whatever hours you have available."

"Well we're open at 7 every morning and we close when I get hungry and decide it's time for some grub. Usually between seven and eight, sometimes not until nine-ten, though I guess we could pay you overtime for that."

Castiel nodded, "That will work fine, thank you."

"What day do you want off?"

"That will not be necessary."

"Dude, you're getting a day off."

Castiel bit his lip, which meant that suddenly all Dean could focus on was his lips. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and tentative. "I can't afford to have days off…"

"I'm sure we can work something out." Sam suggested hastily. "Why don't we go discuss this so Dean can actually get what he needs to get done, done."

* * *

Working Castiel into his routines was a lot easier than Dean was expecting it to be. Instead of fumbling around each other and constantly clashing—which was what he had experienced with Sam—they flowed. Without words, they knew exactly where they were supposed to be, and what the other was doing. Things got done a lot faster, and better (though Dean wasn't planning on letting Sam know that) than ever before, meaning that their customers were bragging to their friends and business was booming for the first time in a long time.

The first two days of working with Castiel caused a lot of distractions for Dean, however, as he had to watch him sliding beneath the cars and remerging with his shirt racking up to reveal a sliver of pale, sweat slick skin. Dean found his eyes constantly finding their way to him, like bugs to a flame. It was annoying as hell, and he was seriously glad that by day three he was able to force himself to stay on task. Castiel didn't take any days off in the first week, or the first month. Even when Dean tried to invite the guy out for drinks, he was turned down. Any friendship Dean thought they could have, Castiel shot down. For some unknown reason he wouldn't ever talk to him or Sam about anything outside of work, and it was a little bit worrying.

The hours were a lot longer now that they were so busy, meaning Castiel was showing up at six and leaving sometime around eleven, though Dean never knew an exact time because the guy seemed to materialize out of thin air and disappear just as easily. By the start of the second month, Dean could see the long hours taking their toll on him. The bags under his eyes had grown and Dean was starting to feel like he should intervene, even if Castiel wasn't exactly a 'friend'. He told himself it was because it would only be a matter of time before Castiel's work started suffering.

"Hey, Castiel?" Dean called over the stereo booming through the shop (something he had insisted on having at all times, especially since Castiel didn't even acknowledge the awesomeness that was playing. Ever.), nudging his boot as a signal for Castiel to come out from under the car.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Lets take lunch, we need to talk." Castiel followed, but he was obviously nervous. Dean grabbed his sandwich from the fridge, and Castiel grabbed an apple which was, apparently, his lunch. Another thing to discuss, obviously. They moved to sit on the comfortable couches just outside the shop. "So, about how much sleep do you think you get?"

Castiel shifted his apple between his hands, not bothering to take a bite. "I'm not sure. Enough?"

"Yeah, that's not good enough. How about a ballpark answer?"

"I believe it averages out to be approximately three hours a night."

Dean nearly chokes on his sandwich, "Three hours?" He stares dubiously at Castiel, "Dude, I know you're here late a lot, but _three hours_? What do you do when you get home?"

"Sleep."

"Then why are you only getting three hours?"

Castiel sighs, anger evident on his features. "Why must you always pry into my business, Dean?" He stands up, leaving the apple sitting on the couch still. "I am completing the work given to me to your standards. That is all that should matter to you, and I ask you to kindly keep your concerns related to the work environment only."

Dean watched his receding back numbly. Castiel had never snapped at him before, and he wondered if it was because he was so tired, or because Dean just seriously pissed him off. He had a feeling it was the latter. Regardless, he made his way back into the shop. He walked past Castiel, who was already under the car again, and into Sam's office. "So new guy is really fucking weird."

"Dean," Sam sighed, "First of all, he's not exactly new anymore. Secondly, you need to stop calling people weird just because they don't share your obsession of bad music and pie."

"Sam, I'm serious. I was noticing that he was looking a bit tired, right? Turns out he gets three hours of sleep at night. I asked him why and he flipped shit."

"Some people don't like when others pry into their business," Sam shrugged, "After what you did to him at his 'interview', I'm not really surprised he doesn't want to talk to you."

"Whatever. I don't care if he doesn't want to talk, but we seriously need to force him to take some time off or something."

"He won't take it."

"He's not going to show up if he's not being paid."

"If he shows up, we have to pay him. It's in his contract."

"Well why'd you do that?"

Sam sighed again, looking away from his screen just long enough to throw a bitch face Dean's way. This one was #43—'_seriously you're so stupid sometimes, how are you older than me?_'. "Because we don't have any actual hours of operation."

"There's gotta be something we can do, Sammy. If he keeps this up he's going to end up passing out under a car or some shit."

"Would you relax, Dean? He's a grown man, I'm sure if things get to be too much he'll let us know." Sam paused, "Well, he'll let me know, anyway."

* * *

Dean let it be for two more weeks. He told himself that Sam was right, that Castiel could take care of himself. He genuinely tried to keep his nose out of it, and he did. Until Cas ended up passing out. Dean had been right there, thank god, and had managed to half-catch him in a grip that was way too tight and almost certainly uncomfortable, but hey. He stopped his skull from hitting the concrete, so Cas had no real reason to complain. Dean pulled one of his limp arms over his shoulder, sliding one of his own around Cas' waist and pulling him over to the couch. He came to just as Dean was lying him down and tried to sit up, but Dean put a strong hand on his chest.

"I don't think so, man."

"Dean—"

"No way, Cas. There's a line I have to draw, here."

Castiel paused at the nickname that Dean had let slip, but it was momentary and he was already struggling to get up, "I'm fine, Dean."

"No. You're not. I get that you don't want me butting in, but I kinda have no choice now." Cas looked like he was about to argue, so Dean continued speaking. "You're technically my employee, so I'm kinda responsible for your safety. If I wouldn't have been standing there, your head woulda hit the concrete straight on, man. So now we've gotta talk."

"Dean, _please_."

"No, Cas. We're going out for lunch, you're eating something, and we're talking about this." Dean stated with finality. He stood up and held a hand out expectantly for Cas, who made no effort to move. "I will drag your ass into my car if I have to." Cas huffed angrily, storming past him and to the parking lot, where the Impala was sitting. He got in and slammed the door behind him, something that Dean would kill him for if he ever tried to do again.

"This is utterly ridiculous, Dean." Castiel hissed as they drove, "I have asked you before to stay out of this."

"Yeah, well now you've got no choice 'cause your safety is at risk." Dean glanced away from the road, Cas' jaw was set and he looked _pissed_, but Dean couldn't understand what the big deal was. "I'm not letting my rep suffer because you passed out and got a concussion or some shit. We're talking."

Castiel said nothing else, instead choosing to silently fume during the five minute drive. He didn't protest when they arrived at the restaurant—thank god, Dean really didn't want people staring at them—and he followed him in, falling heavily into the booth the waitress directed them to. "We'll have two cheeseburgers and two coffees." Dean told her without being asked, waiting until she was out of ear shot before turning back to Cas.

"I don't want a burger, Dean."

"Too bad. We're not leaving here until you've eaten it." Cas sighed dramatically, and Dean couldn't help but wonder why he had been acting so childishly as of late. "So, what's up, Cas?"

"The sky." Castiel deadpanned.

Dean could tell when he wasn't going to get anywhere being nice, so he stopped trying. "Look, if you don't start giving me some really good reasons, I'm going to force you to cut your hours back."

"You can't."

"I'll close earlier and open later if I damn well have to, Cas. Don't push me."

"It's none of your business."

"So you've said. But when you pass out in my place of business, it kinda becomes my business."

"I will be fine."

Dean shook his head, "Yeah, I don't think so. Why are you only getting three hours a night? Do you have a second job or something?"

"No."

"Then, what? Insomniac?"

"No."

"Will you just fucking throw me a bone, here? I'm trying to _help_, Cas. I wouldn't be butting into your personal life if it wasn't for a good reason, so I'd appreciate it if you would stop being such a dick about it!" Dean had ended up yelling, not something he had really wanted to do even if the restaurant was empty.

Cas had the decency to at least look sheepish, dropping his gaze to the table and biting at his bottom lip. "I apologize for my rudeness."

"It's fine, Cas. You're tired, I get it man, but you gotta talk to me."

"I understand," He gave a small nod just as their waitress came back with their food. She looked apprehensively at Dean, but thankfully said nothing outside of the obligatory 'enjoy your meal'. Cas picked up his burger without being told, thankfully, and took a large bite. He hummed at the taste as he chewed, visibly relaxing. Once he swallowed, he placed the burger back on its plate. "Shortly after you gave me the opportunity to work under you, I had to sell my vehicle. My landlord, Raphael, decided that he required me to pay my rent two weeks earlier than had been previously agreed, and if I had not he would've thrown me directly out onto the streets. As a result, I have been walking to and from the shop."

"Seriously?" Dean placed his own burger down, "How far away is your apartment?"

"It takes me approximately 45 minutes to get to the shop in the mornings, though it can take anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half for me to get home after."

"Why didn't you just say something, man?"

"I couldn't afford for my hours to lessen. My rent is… much higher than I can comfortably afford right now, and although I'm looking I can't find any other apartments nearby." Castiel shrugged, "I can work through this and in time I'm sure I'll have enough to get another car."

"Yeah, no." Dean shook his head, "I'll drive you."

"Dean, I must object." Castiel didn't look angry, thank god, but he did look determined. "From what Sam told me you live above the shop, correct?" Dean nodded. "I couldn't possibly ask you to go out of your way to pick me up. I will find an alternative method."

"No, I know you. You're just gonna keep walking, and if you don't start getting some sleep you're going to have some serious health issues in a bit." Dean threw a fry into his mouth, talking as he chewed and ignoring Castiel's frown of disapproval, "No arguments, man. I like driving, it's no big deal."

"Dean…"

"I'm serious, Cas. You either give me your address willingly, or I'll get it off Sammy." Cas, obviously able to tell when he was out of options, mumbled his address quietly. Dean couldn't really hear him, but he figured that Cas would give him directions on his way home today, anyway. "Good. Finish your burger and then we'll go back to work. I'll drive you home around seven."

"Thank you, Dean."

* * *

Dean could understand why Cas was struggling so much to meet his rent. The set of apartment blocks—which were only a fifteen minute drive from the shop—were some of the most expensive in the area. Dean whistled as they pulled up to them, impressed. "Wow, Cas. You musta been a damn good lawyer."

"I actually wasn't," He admitted weakly, "Prior to my disagreement with Zachariah, my father provided me with a monthly… allowance, you could call it. It covered half of the cost of my apartment."

Dean parked the Impala as close to the front door as he could. "Not gonna lie, it's a bit more extravagant than what I would've pegged you for."

"It is much more extravagant than I'm comfortable with," Agreed Cas, "However, my brother Gabriel originally lived in the apartment next door and he is one of two siblings I am comfortable around."

"He still live there?"

"No, he lives in London now." Castiel's tone was flat, emotionless, but his eyes were sad as he looked straight forward. He shook his head, as if that would shake away whatever thoughts he was having, and opened the door to the Impala, "Thank you for the ride Dean."

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow, six thirty." Cas looked considerably less uncomfortable with the idea than he had at lunch, simply nodding and sliding out. "Hey, one more thing," Dean said before he could close the door. Cas stared at him expectantly. "Get a decent sleep, alright?"

"Yes, Dean. Thank you." Cas closed the door gently and turned away. Dean watched him go, turning the engine back on only once he was sure Cas was safely inside.

It was easier than Dean thought to fall into a routine of picking Cas up at 6:30 and dropping him off after closing shop. It helped that Cas hadn't complained since that first day, instead choosing to be quietly grateful. He started looking better, less tired, and he actually made an effort to strike a conversation during their rides, or to ask Dean if he wanted to share their lunch break. And hell, Dean was really freaking glad that things were going back to normal.

"Thank you for the ride." Cas said politely as Dean parked in front of his apartment block. It was only seven; a heck of a lot earlier than either of them was used to. Dean simply nodded, and Cas moved to get out of the car. He paused before closing the door though, his hand gripping the frame as he bit his lip in contemplation.

"Everything cool, Cas?"

"Um, yes." He took a breath, closing his eyes briefly before speaking quickly. "Wouldyouliketocomein?"

"What was that?"

Another breath, and then slower, "Would you like to come in?" Dean had no chance to answer before Cas was backtracking, trying for god knows what reason to explain himself. "I know you're probably tired, however I would really like to show my appreciation for what you have been doing, and since you haven't eaten supper yet I was thinking…" He trailed off, his voice getting quieter, even less confident, "Well, I was thinking I could make you something to eat, if that is okay. I understand if you have a previous agreement with Sam."

"Cas, relax. Sam and I never eat together." He removed the keys from the ignition, "I'd love to come up. And hell, free food. Who'd say no to that?"

Cas smiled, and it was the one that Dean had seen on the first day, when he had told Cas he could have the job. He hadn't seen it since, and he hadn't realized just how much he wanted to see it again until that moment. He followed half-blindly after Cas and into the large apartment building wondering if he'd be able to coax that smile out more as the night drew on.


End file.
